


So unlike a wife

by Petra



Category: DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Caper Fic, Crossdressing, F/M, M/M, Multi, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-23
Updated: 2006-06-23
Packaged: 2017-10-18 16:36:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/190955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Petra/pseuds/Petra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robin hates crossdressing for justice, but he can understand the necessity in certain situations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So unlike a wife

**Author's Note:**

> This began due to a discussion with Te regarding what Bruce/Dick slash based on Chuck Dixon's writing would be like. I am not at all sure this is my final answer. I love the people who held my hand and give many thanks to [](http://jamjar.livejournal.com/profile)[**jamjar**](http://jamjar.livejournal.com/) and [](http://rubynye.livejournal.com/profile)[**rubynye**](http://rubynye.livejournal.com/) who wouldn't let me make the story anything other than what it wanted to be.

"Next time you get invited to a bash," Dick says, tying off the last suture on the cut on Bruce's chest, "I'm going to remind you to wear the vest."

"I'll have to get Alfred to let out the seams on several more suits," Bruce says ruefully. "It does ruin the hang."

Dick laughs and puts away the first aid kit. "Not as much as a bullet wound."

"True." Bruce twists, checking his mobility, until he grimaces. Dick winces in sympathetic pain. "Thanks."

"Anytime. Well -- not anytime. I'd rather avoid having to do it at all. But --" Dick shrugs. "You know."

Bruce squeezes his shoulder lightly for a moment. "Yes."

"At least I didn't have to go as your date for this one." Dick ducks away, making a face.

"Maybe next time." Bruce looks perfectly calm. Like he doesn't know how silly it would be.

Dick shakes his head. "Not in Gotham. It'd be too obvious. Not that anyone at those things pays any attention to me, but the one or two who do would get it."

"If you went as a blonde?" Bruce waves a hand and winces a little.

"I don't have the coloring for it and you know it. And -- and I'm not built like that anymore." Dick squares his shoulders, which, okay, aren't all that square and hulking yet, but are definitely male shoulders. He hopes.

Bruce chuckles indulgently. It makes Dick's adolescent self-defense kick in even when he knows that's what it is. "You could still pull it off if you needed to."

Dick crosses his arms. "If Batgirl needed me to, well, that's different, but, man, you have to find some dates your own age."

"Such as Ms. Kyle?"

Dick rolls his eyes and stalks away for about three steps before it feels too dramatic and he compensates by walking on his hands. Just because he's still wearing his tuxedo doesn't mean he can't balance as well as ever. "I get it. Sort of. But it's still -- it'd almost be safer if you were pretending to date me."

"Hm," Bruce says, following on foot at about Dick's pace. "I don't have any particular reason to make Selina jealous at the moment."

"I'm not volunteering," Dick says defensively. He flips up to his feet. "Just -- it would make about as much sense."

"I'll keep that in mind," Bruce says as he starts up the stairs.

He probably doesn't know that Dick spends a good half-hour later in the evening staring in the mirror and puffing up his chest from various angles trying to look as unfeminine as he possibly can, but sometimes it's hard to know what Bruce knows.

The next night, there are a bunch of articles Bruce pulls from the newswires, as standard procedure. After patrol, they read through them.

"Nine hundred thousand dollars worth of diamonds, cut and jewelry, and sales spiking in Monte Carlo of all places," Robin says, skimming the text on the screen, and he raises an eyebrow at Batman over his mask.

"She's never been subtle," Batman says.

Robin laughs. "You'd think -- cats, quiet, quick --"

"One might, but I would not."

"Alfred, is that you?" Robin says, grinning.

Batman shakes his head once and pages down through the police report. "I hope she knows enough about capitalism not to glut the local market too badly."

"You're worried about the fences' profits?"

"Or what they'd do to her if they figured out why they couldn't sell any diamonds."

Robin sniffs. "Well, that too."

"Perhaps Ms. Kyle will reenter the Gotham social scene shortly."

"With you?" Robin blinks. "But she -- we have to get the diamonds back."

"She has no need of Bruce Wayne's money at the moment." Batman pushes his cowl back and runs a hand through his sweat-dampened hair. "I doubt he'll hold much appeal for her."

Robin reaches up and pats him on the shoulder. "I'm sure you'll find someone to nurse your broken heart, Brucie."

Bruce takes his hand in a grip that manages to be both gentle and inexorable and kisses the back of his gauntlet with a courtly flourish that makes Robin stare at him. "Perhaps it's time for Anne Loyd to make her début."

It takes him a second to realize that the reason he's not making any sound is because his mouth fell open. "What?"

Bruce's smile is entirely foolish and infatuated. He shouldn't be able to look that way when he's still wearing the Batsuit. "You do make a smashing red-head. Darling."

Robin can't figure out whether he's more horrified that Bruce is still holding his hand or that he's blushing from collar to hairline. "I said I was never going to do that again! Especially not here."

"But she's not here." Bruce -- Bruce squeezes his hand. Tenderly. Except for how Robin's trying to pull free and completely failing to succeed. "She's in Monte Carlo. Surely that's far enough away."

Robin pitches his voice low and says, "I can't pull it off. I'm sorry."

Bruce's chuckle makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up. "I have faith in you." He lets Robin's hand go and types a few quick lines. "We'll leave tomorrow morning, then."

"But I have school," Robin says, and then he realizes he totally lost the baritone. He kicks himself internally. "I can't just take off for -- however long it is."

"Bring your homework." Bruce takes a seat and types in the itinerary. "It's a long flight."

"But --" Robin takes his mask off. "Bruce, I can't do this."

"Of course you can." Bruce raises an eyebrow at him. "I'm sure there are plenty of dresses in the appropriate genre still in the wardrobe."

Dick shakes his head. "I'm not -- I --" He tries to envision tottering around on heels, laughing like a dip and playing dumb. Playing the trophy wife, because no matter how he dresses up he'll still look like he's a good ten years younger than Bruce. "I'm just not that good at it."

"You'll be fine. Remember -- pick colors that go well with red hair," Bruce says, and the set of his chin as he looks up at the screen makes it totally clear that he's not going to argue about this anymore.

"Man," Dick says, dropping his cape on the floor -- if he's going to have to wear fancy clothes for ages, he'd better get in his minor rebellions when he can. "Isn't this Batgirl's job?"

"She has other responsibilities," Bruce says. "Dark green would work quite well."

"Fine. Fine!" Dick makes a face at Bruce's back and turns away to get started on the process of packing.

The flight to Monte Carlo is turbulent, so Dick makes himself sleep through the whole thing. Alfred finds an excuse to stay home, probably mostly because he doesn't want to deal with Bruce if Selina's being difficult.

The taxi ride to the hotel is Dick's first look at Monaco, brilliant with midmorning sunshine, and it just makes him tired. Getting all their stuff up to the room would be a heck of a slog, but at least they don't have to haul all the stuff Anne needs by themselves.

"Only one bed?" Dick says somewhat faintly when the door has closed behind the bellhop. He shifts in his strappy, entirely impractical sandals. At least with stiletto heels you can really kick people.

"It seemed appropriate." Bruce raises an eyebrow at him. "We've had closer quarters."

"Well, yeah." Dick grabs his suitcase and starts hanging the dresses up to hide his blush. It's one thing when they're on a stakeout. That's all business and it doesn't require Dick to have fake cleavage -- 'Master Dick, considering your recent broadening, perhaps a D cup.' -- and smush it into people's faces.

He's also never had to hold Bruce's hand all the time before. It would be easier to take if Bruce Wayne didn't have possessive little nervous tics. He keeps running his thumb over Dick's palm. It should be easy to ignore or possibly just annoying.

It shouldn't -- it really, really shouldn't -- make him shiver. He can suppress it, but the little motion is starting to get to him on levels that make him realize why it's part of the persona in the first place. Reacting like that to Bruce is not exactly new, and he can rationalize it because he's supposed to hang on Bruce's arm and giggle and coo. If he's kind of dizzy, it just helps him get into character more.

It's getting out of character now that they're in private that's the problem. They have another hour yet before it's lunchtime and the jet lag is kicking in something fierce. Dick toes off his sandals and sits on the only bed, picking at his sundress. "At least we're finally here."

"You should probably change for lunch," Bruce says. He's sitting in an overstuffed chair reading the Wall Street Journal. It's got to be too much work for Bruce Wayne, but Dick's not about to call him on that when there are more important issues at hand.

Wearing a dress to get to Catwoman is one thing, but doing it just for the hell of it is a bit much. "Aren't cats nocturnal?"

"Selina isn't." Bruce shrugs and turns the page. "Besides, I'm sure the paparazzi will be excited to see you."

Dick groans. "That's not fair. It's really not."

Bruce folds the top of the newspaper back and gives him a very Batman look. "I thought you understood the purpose of this mission."

"I don't understand why I have to be totally humiliated for it to work." Dick makes a face at him and pulls off the sundress, then scowls at his padding. "Anne isn't even built like your type, Bruce. No one's going to buy this, least of all Selina."

"I think the maroon Gucci, for this afternoon," Bruce says, and Dick stares at him. There's just no way around it, so he gets dressed.

It makes him look disturbingly like Sofia Loren until he gets the wig back on, and that shouldn't be a sexy thought. It just shouldn't. "Do you tell all your girlfriends what to wear, Mr. Wayne?" Bruce tosses a little box at him. He catches it automatically and opens it before he registers the velvet on the outside. The rock on the inside is much more impressive. "Oh, oh god, why?"

"Misdirection." Bruce is reading again like he didn't just throw the world's gaudiest engagement ring at Dick.

"It's real?"

"Of course."

It looks -- well, it looks completely huge on Dick's finger even though his fingers are totally not dainty, even with the manicure and nail polish Alfred insisted on before he left. "Well, this is going to distract people from just about everything." Dick stares at it and wiggles his hand to watch the facets flicker. "Are you going to give it to Selina?"

"What would she do with another diamond?" Bruce asks, looking up just to raise his eyebrow at Dick. "That's for Anne, not Selina."

"Uh-huh." Dick makes it twinkle again. "How long have you and, um, Anne been engaged, now?"

"Five days. It was love at first sight," Bruce says, and sighs. "She just swept me off my feet."

"I'm sure it's mutual." Dick gets out the shoes that go with this dress. "So you -- um -- we're going to have to be kind of glued together, huh?"

"In public, at least."

"Mm." At least with the shoes he's tall enough that it makes him look sort of balanced in the mirror. Less like he's going to tip over forward from too much breast and too little anything else. "Lots of PDAs, then?"

Bruce stands up with a fluidity that almost passes for lazy grace and puts his hand on Dick's waist. "It's only natural for a loving couple."

It shouldn't make Dick shudder -- that's not even his hip, it's padding -- but it works. The reflection doesn't look like him, or, mercifully, like Babs either. It looks like Anne Loyd with a big piece of ice on her finger and Bruce Wayne pushing her hair aside to kiss the back of her neck.

That's even worse. It's like watching a movie and getting to the swelling music and the romantic climax, but he can feel Bruce's lips on his neck.

He twists away. "Bruce, I can't -- not in public, I just --"

Bruce catches his wrist. "After all this trouble? Anne --" his features soften, weaken, and he looks positively foolish. "Sweetheart. While we're here, then, let me --"

Dick is absolutely certain he wasn't asking for a kiss. He knows he wanted to get out of having to do this at all, if he could only figure out how to explain why it won't, can't work.

Bruce kissing him -- his lips are soft, too gentle -- means Bruce is in character, and the only way to really deal with that is to be Anne right back at him.

It's easier if it's Anne's breathing hitching, if Anne's the one who whimpers and puts her arms around Bruce's neck. Dick can't -- Dick would never, ever even start something like this -- so it's just as well he's got Anne right there to do it for him.

This is just practice so Dick won't drop character out in the world where it matters, and that explains not at all why Bruce is running his hand down Dick's back, over the skin the dress leaves bare and his lower back and his ass, and it would be better and worse if he wasn't wearing a dress. It would be more real and nothing, nothing could be more real than Bruce sighing against his mouth and nibbling on his lower lip until Dick moans.

He doesn't know it's entirely him until Bruce breaks the kiss and says, "That was awfully tenor, Anne darling. Do you have a cold?" His expression is too vacant -- perfectly clueless, really.

"Sorry," Dick says. "I'll drink some orange juice."

Bruce strokes his cheek -- Anne's cheek, really -- and smiles. "Wouldn't want you getting sick, now."

"No, I'm all right." Dick takes a deep breath and tips his head back, asking for another kiss.

He doesn't even manage to surprise Bruce. All he gets is an infatuated grin and another, fiercer kiss. He can't pretend not to respond, and it would be wrong to act unmoved, anyway. Leaning into the kiss and clinging to Bruce's shoulders puts him a little off balance, and he has to lean a little more --

And that's when it registers that he's hard, and that he's really going to have to tuck if they're going to do this in public.

Also that right now, Bruce is pulling him closer and humming against his mouth.

They should stop this any second now because they're not doing it for an audience, and if they practice very much more it's not going to be an act.

Dick's already losing track of how much it is one, and how much of his dizziness is because he's kissing Bruce and he's thought about this, but the thoughts never actually involved high heels, or dresses, or Monte Carlo.

It's all too wrong to be real, and that hits him hard and suddenly. He shivers and knows exactly how much of the twist in his stomach is because of that. "Bruce," he says, not trying to be Anne at all.

Bruce raises an eyebrow at him. "Yes?" He backs away, letting Dick get his balance back.

Dick's face and chest feel warm, as though he's blushing. He probably is. "That's -- that's probably not a good, um, plan."

"It seemed effective enough." Bruce turns away, not really looking at him at all, and says, "Find your purse. We're going out."

"But --" Dick says, faltering. He can't decide whether to say, "I don't know whether you know you just kissed me," or "Can we do that again now?"

"We have lunch reservations," Bruce says, slipping on his shoes.

Dick runs his fingers through the wig and gets it to lie properly, then glances at the rock on his ring finger again. "Right." He takes a deep breath and wills himself not to get too caught up in the role. It's one thing to pretend to be Bruce's fiancée, but when he catches himself wanting it to be real, that's a problem.

It's easier outside of the hotel room where breaking character just isn't an option. He just holds onto Bruce's arm and laughs too much. He keeps wanting a fan, like in the movies Alfred watches, so he can tap Bruce with it and say, "La, sir!"

But that won't fly, so he sticks with the dippiest giggle he can manage and, "Oh, Bruce!"

It works for "Shall we stroll on the esplanade?" even though he's not sure what an esplanade is.

It works for "Champagne with lunch, darling?" even though he doesn't like champagne and he's pretty sure Bruce doesn't think he should actually drink it.

It works for "Move your chair over here, sweetheart," where the obvious reason is so Bruce can put his hand on Anne's knee and the not-obvious reason is so Dick can actually see what's going on without having the sun in his eyes.

But it doesn't work for Selina, who spots them while they're walking and follows them to where they have lunch, keeping mostly out of sight. She comes over and says, "Bruce. I didn't expect to see you here."

She looks a lot better than she usually does in Gotham -- tan from the Monaco sun, relaxed, and smiling a predatory smile. Her earrings have the telltale glitter of diamonds.

Bruce grins back at her. "Selina! This is my fiancée, Anne. Anne, my old friend, Selina Kyle."

Selina raises an eyebrow and Dick finds himself thinking about just how long it must take her to look that perfect. "Charmed, I'm sure," she says. "And how long have you been sentenced -- ah, engaged?"

"Oh, stop," Bruce says, chuckling.

"A week," Dick says, showing off the ring and using his best Anne voice. He beams like an idiot at Bruce instead of looking at Selina because the longer he has to make eyecontact with her, the stranger this gets. "Bruce just swept me off my feet."

Selina says, "Ah," in a soft voice that reminds Dick of some of the reasons why Bruce puts up with her. "I'm sure he did, flying back on the rebound like that."

"It was a quick recovery," Bruce says, putting his hand over Dick's on the table and looking at him instead of Selina.

"And now you've come here to convalesce, mm?"

"No," Dick says, because Anne wouldn't get it. "To celebrate." He nudges Bruce under the table. "We should give Selina a drink. We should toast."

"You already seem quite toasted," Selina says.

Dick makes himself giggle. It would be a lot easier if he'd had any champagne.

"Do join us," Bruce says, getting up to pull out a chair for Selina.

She looks up at him skeptically and Dick's sure she knows and that she's going to say something, and it will all have been hideously embarrassing for nothing.

"All right," Selina says, taking a seat and a champagne flute. She smiles that same predatory smile; it makes Dick wonder where the henchmen are and how long exactly this is going to go on. "Congratulations, anyway. And how did you two meet?"

Dick smiles. "It was one of those charity events, last month -- wasn't it? Oxfam, or Save the Spotted Ducks, I forget."

"Spotted Owls, darling," Bruce says mildly, and he's running his thumb across Dick's palm again. "Yes. I was attending, and I was struck --"

"You should have been," Selina says, quite clearly.

"-- by Anne's beauty," Bruce finishes as if he hasn't heard. "And then by her wit."

"Oh, Bruce!" Possibly that noise qualifies as tittering, but Dick's not sure what the difference is. He smacks Bruce in the arm and ducks his head, glancing up at Selina with a wink. "What a flatterer he is, Miss Kyle."

Selina presses her lips together. "Selina. Please."

"Selina, then." Dick grins at her. "Don't you find that Bruce says the most sweetly complimentary things?"

"Out of all proportion to reality, on occasion," Selina agrees, looking at Bruce instead of him.

"Now, Selina," Bruce says, frowning a little, "you didn't tell us what brings you to this corner of the globe."

She leans back in her chair. Dick's back to staring at Bruce, trying to look fascinated by him instead of bored or annoyed. But out of the corner of his eye, he can see Selina's smile, and he can hear her cross her legs. If Anne were half as smooth as Selina is, Dick wouldn't be so embarrassed to be her, but half of the reason she exists is to make Selina look good -- and make her jealous, somehow.

Selina says, "Business."

Bruce laughs. "Oh, come now, no one does business here. This is a place for those of us who want to be away from that sort of thing."

"Bruce, I think you need to get in out of the sun," Selina says, raising an eyebrow at him. "Or perhaps cut back on the dames -- ah, the champagne."

Dick says, "Oh, dear," and presses his wrist to Bruce's forehead. "Are you all right?"

Bruce takes his hand and kisses the back of it. Anne would react by letting her eyes close -- no, flutter shut -- so Dick does, and with his eyes closed he's not entirely sure he didn't mean it. "I'm perfectly fine," Bruce says, and leans over to kiss Anne's cheek. It's not helping Dick figure out how to keep his composure, but if it's all part of the act, then everything's fine.

"If you're sure," Selina says, and she taps her champagne glass. "I should probably move on."

"Whatever for?" Bruce asks, giving her a lazy smile. "You're on vacation, Selina. Relax a little."

She shakes her head. "I'm not, unfortunately, and I have far too many people to talk to today."

"We ought to have dinner together, at least, since we're in the same country."

Selina smiles a little. "I'll hold you to that, then. Tonight?"

Bruce smiles back, more genuinely than he's smiled in days. "That would be perfect."

Selina writes down a hotel's name and a number on a napkin and passes it over. "Call me, then." She glances at Dick again and the way her eyes narrow makes him wonder if she knows something's up, or worse, if she recognizes him. All she says, though, is, "It was nice to meet you, Anne."

"You, too. I hope we'll see each other soon," Dick says. "If not here, then in Gotham."

Bruce squeezes his knee. "Don't be a stranger, Selina."

She gets up, picking up her purse. "Enjoy your vacation." With a little wave, she walks away.

Bruce leans close enough that Dick can feel his breath against his ear and says, "Those earrings were part of the take."

His voice makes Dick shiver even though the words are nothing to quiver about. "Oh."

"If she hasn't fenced all of them yet, she may not be in trouble, but we should visit the gem dealers and find out what they know." Bruce strokes the back of Dick's hand and traces a line across his wrist just firmly enough that it doesn't tickle. "How would you like a tennis bracelet, darling?"

Dick laughs. "I never understood why they're called tennis bracelets. I mean, you wouldn't wear one while you were playing tennis."

"Before your time," Bruce says, and he takes Dick's hand to kiss the back of it, then helps him up. "I'll need you to do the shopping while I talk to the buyers."

"Okay." Dick thinks about the stuff he had to learn about diamonds the last time Freeze was out -- cut, color, carat, all that jazz, and tries to translate it from doomsday weapon to picking out fancy jewelry. He's seen enough hauls to know what thieves like to steal, but not nearly enough to know what he'd like to wear. "What sort of things should I look at?"

Bruce smiles the dazed smile that Dick's coming to dread and puts an arm around his waist. "Wedding rings. And a bracelet, if you want."

There are shops a short walk away, and it should only take a few minutes to walk to the first one, but Dick realizes he has to ask more questions, and the best way to do that is to pull away from Bruce and then tug him out of the flow of foot traffic to nuzzle his ear. "When's the wedding?"

"Darling, how could you forget?" Bruce kisses him behind his ear. "August sixteenth."

Dick rests his head on Bruce's shoulder for a second and tries to keep his balance with his knees getting tingly. "Okay, and -- price guidelines?"

"Nothing is too good for you." Bruce kisses him again, for real this time, and then says, "We have a lot of hard shopping to do."

"Right. Right." Dick nods and then gets a good look at him. Bruce has lipstick smudged all over his mouth. "You're a mess."

Bruce gives him a squeeze. "Good. Let's go."

Wobbling around jewelry boutiques on the still unfamiliar heels makes Dick grouchy, but it ought to make Anne effusive, so he gives it his best exclamation points. "Oh, that one! May I see it?" he says, way too many times to too many shopgirls, who hand him too many things. Bruce gets into conversations with the older gentlemen, the ones with magnifying lenses around their necks and raised eyebrows that Mr. Wayne has any interest in sources at all, and then when they switch languages it's harder for Dick to pay attention.

By the fourth shop, Dick is sick to death of diamonds. "Maybe I should get a sapphire," he says longingly to the girl.

"Yes, with your eyes," she says, nodding, and points out a case of sapphire rings. Her accent is strong. "But not for marrying."

"Not DeBeers, then?" Bruce says to the buyer in French, and the buyer laughs.

"No, no, m'sieur. Come, I will show you quality."

They disappear into a back room and Dick sighs without meaning to do it out loud. "I guess tradition is important."

The girl frowns at him. It would be easier to just speak French, but Anne shouldn't know that much French. "Tradition, yes," she says after a moment. "Diamonds for marrying. But sapphires are beautiful. A necklace?"

There's a scar on the back of Dick's neck, right up by his hairline, that she might notice. Also there's the issue of the wig. "No, thanks."

"Earrings!" she says triumphantly.

The clip-ons he's wearing sting like crazy, and he'd managed to forget that until she reminds him. "No -- no. A bracelet?"

"Possible." She takes out another tray and shows him the options. Very few of them just have sapphires. There are some with diamonds, like the tennis bracelet that he'd really rather not have Bruce buy, and some with rubies.

Dick contemplates asking for blood red jewelry and teasing Bruce about how well it would go with the Robin suit, but he's too tired to play that kind of game. He works his way through the bracelet options, showing the girl each one and making the most sensible comments he can about each one.

When they're one bracelet from done, Bruce gets back from talking to the guy with actual power in the place. Dick wants to ask him right now if this has been a waste of time, almost as badly as he wants to kick off his high heels and put on pants. Neither of those things would work. Instead, he sets the last bracelet back on the counter and says, "Thank you for showing me."

The girl nods to him. "You're welcome, miss. Which did you want?"

"Have you found something you like?" Bruce comes up behind Dick and puts his arm around him, kissing his temple. He's close and warm and all of a sudden Dick really does need to sit down and get out of the dress. It's screwing up his self control.

Dick shakes his head. "No -- not here. Let's go, please." He tries to get Bruce to see how desperate to go home he is with a glance.

"Of course," Bruce says, as bland as ever, so it's impossible to tell what he gets and doesn't get.

"We're going to the hotel," Dick says firmly, not using the Anne voice, when they get to the street.

"If that's what you want, darling." Bruce takes his hand and laces their fingers together.

Dick shakes his head and starts walking faster, ignoring the pinching in his toes and what's got to be a nice pair of blisters by now. "I'm done with this, Bruce."

"We can't go home yet," Bruce says, keeping up easily. "Selina --"

"She's a big girl," Dick snaps, speeding up again. She's a criminal and they've been wandering town all day to take care of her and his feet hurt like crazy. "She can look after herself."

"Not tonight." Bruce doesn't sound angry, just insistent. "She's going to need someone to help her -- the local Mafia is closing in."

They reach the hotel and the concierge gives Bruce the room key with a little bow. The elevator is empty. Dick takes his shoes off and glares at the backs of his ankles. Blisters is a nice word for what they've done to his feet. "That's too bad."

Bruce shakes his head slightly. They reach their floor and then the room, not soon enough for Dick.

Bruce takes out his notebook and sits at the desk in the room to write down a few things in his own code. "It's more complicated than that."

"Yeah?" Dick asks, even though he doesn't care at this point. He's got the wig on its stand already and he's peeling off the dress and the breast padding as fast as he can. If it all ends up in a crumple he's not going to be sorry.

"It would be entirely too coincidental if Bruce Wayne and Batman were both in Monte Carlo at the same time," Bruce says.

Dick rolls the nylons down his legs and throws them at his suitcase, then follows them with the butt and hip pads. His skin itches all over. "Yeah, I guess, but what would Robin be doing here without Batman?"

Bruce doesn't answer immediately. It takes Dick two breaths to realize that he's naked except for a pair of panties, and that Bruce is looking at him. "Vacation?" Bruce suggests.

Dick dashes for the bathroom, saying, "I really need a shower," which is true, but not as true as that what he really needs is to jerk off.

He's absolutely certain Bruce knows that, too, but it gets him five minutes' peace. He gets the goddamn makeup out of his pores and makes himself smell less like Chanel. With that stuff done -- when he's not Anne, at all -- he thinks really hard about the way it feels to kiss Bruce and what it could -- should be like if it was real. He's used to being quiet when he gets himself off because it's bad enough knowing Bruce knows without a little layer of plausible deniability. All he has to do is bite his knuckles hard enough, and he's sure Bruce can't hear the hitches in his breathing over the shower.

When his head's a little clearer, he realizes that all his clothes are out there in his suitcase, and that they're all Anne's stuff. There are enough towels that he can dry off with one and wrap another one around his waist. "Sorry," he says, and Bruce is still looking at him, but at least now when he shivers he doesn't instantly get hard, too. "I couldn't concentrate."

Bruce has the dress he was wearing before hung up properly and the Robin suit laid out on the bed. "Robin is here investigating the jewel theft," he says, putting down the little purse that holds the basic parts of the Robin suit. "Occam's Razor."

"Right, right." Dick picks up the first layer. It feels good to hold something that's more dangerous to other people than to his dignity. He's a little too damp to put it on right now, and he's not in the mood to use baby powder. "And Batman?"

"Dealing with a new pattern of crime in Gotham." Bruce sits on the bed. "Anne, should anyone inquire, is in bed with a terrible headache."

"It must have been all the champagne," Dick says. "Only Selina would even ask."

Bruce nods. "When I see her over dinner, I expect her to inquire."

If Anne were a real girl, that would make her furious. Dick's just footsore and glad of the chance to do something substantial. "It's a reasonable question."

"Dick," Bruce says, and then he hesitates.

It's not like Bruce to start something and then stop. "What's up?"

"It looks like those shoes are hurting your feet."

Bruce isn't looking anywhere near his feet.

"Kinda, yeah." Dick shrugs. "They do that."

"There are remedies for that," Bruce says, and he gets up again. The room is way too expensive to be so small that they're right next to each other just because they're both standing up, but even so Dick can feel the change in the air. Bruce is focused, and for once today it's not on Selina.

Dick gives him a lopsided grin -- smiling like himself instead of like Anne is such a relief -- and sits on the bed, giving him space. "You have some bandaids?"

Bruce just raises an eyebrow at him and pulls out a strip of little adhesive circles from some pocket or other. "You won't be as effective with blisters."

"I know. I didn't pick out those shoes," Dick says, and he tries not to sound too grouchy about it.

Bruce gets down on his knees, opens a bandage, and picks up Dick's right foot with such familiar motions that it takes Dick a second to realize he's dressed to go to dinner. It's entirely like being in the cave, worn out from patrol, having Batman do some bandaging or other.

Usually, he only gets help with stuff that's major or hard to reach. Bruce putting a half-inch circle on an ankle blister is surreal.

The situation only gets moreso when Bruce starts rubbing the ball of Dick's foot with his thumbs. "Oh man," Dick says, bracing his hands on the bed. "Next time we spar, I want you to do this again. That's great."

Bruce looks up at him with a smile in his eyes. "After you've showered, perhaps."

"Yeah, boots get awful stinky -- damn." Dick knows his toes are pretty prehensile, but he hasn't seen his foot flex like that in a while. It feels excellent. "Okay, I think I can kick with that one."

"Good." Bruce switches sides and it's just as good, just as necessary.

Dick has to stop himself from doing anything more than saying, "That's really nice." He kicks his feet a little when Bruce is done and wriggles his toes. "Thanks."

Bruce sits back on his heels, then stands up. "You'll be fine, Robin."

"I know." His back is getting dry enough to put on the undershirt, besides which he's feeling a little exposed and like the earlier shower wasn't enough to compensate for Bruce being right there and looking at him again.

It's definitely not enough to counteract Bruce's hand being on his knee when all he's got is a towel. "The restaurant is relatively exposed," he says, like he doesn't even notice he's touching Dick -- but his eyes are narrowed, a little. "You'll have to be careful."

Dick reaches for his tunic. "I will be."

"If you need me, I'll think of an excuse," Bruce says and squeezes his knee.

Dick bites his lip. It would be easy to kiss Bruce, from here, and now he knows just how warm it would be. He's trying not to focus on it right now because it would be embarrassing to blush for no apparent reason.

Chances are really good that no matter how warm it was, it would be about as real as Bruce kissing Anne. If he meant it -- but he doesn't, and thinking that he might just makes it hurt more. "That would really tick Selina off."

Bruce lets him go and stands up. "I'm sure you're right." Dick feels irrationally cold, but relieved, too.

"I'll do my best not to need any backup." Dick gets up and puts on the uniform, thinking really hard about where all the pieces go instead of paying attention to Bruce, who's checking something in a notebook and not staring at him anymore.

When Dick's belt clicks shut, Bruce looks up at him. "Ready?"

Dick pulls out his mask and smiles. "As I'll ever be."

Bruce taps one of the pockets of his suit pants and nods. "Good. Let's go."

Dick leaves out the window because it's not like Robin can just walk down the street with Bruce Wayne without making people wonder. He's not used to the buildings, and he starts to miss Gotham's architecture after two roofs, but he can deal with it. Staying totally out of sight is probably not an option, but if there's a fight, it won't be an issue anymore.

He can't quite keep pace with Bruce to the restaurant, but Selina's not supposed to be there for another fifteen minutes. It gives Dick plenty of time to find a place to sit on the roof where he won't be immediately obvious from the street, but where he can still see. There's a skylight next to him, and when he looks through it, he can see right where Bruce is sitting.

He keeps thinking about he could burst through it and ask for another kiss, a real one, this time. But every time he tries to imagine how it would go, imaginary Bruce just gives him a blank stare and laughs it off. It's not how Bruce was acting, before, but that doesn't make the imaginary laughter any easier to take.

Selina comes in five minutes late and Dick scans the street as soon as he sees her come in. No one's following her yet. In between checking the street, Dick watches through the skylight. Bruce kisses her cheeks and offers her roses. She laughs, but not at him. Dick doesn't have to hear it to know she's asking where Anne is and making fun of Bruce for how stupid his fiancée is.

They're laughing together, now, about Anne. That means Dick did exactly what Bruce needed him to do, and it has nothing at all to do with Dick, or what Bruce thinks about him.

Dick sighs, reminding himself that they're not really talking about him, and watches the street again. He could tell Bruce he saw something suspicious, or heard something, or that there's some kind of plane, but none of those would be true yet.

Bruce and Selina are drinking wine together. Dick makes faces at them through the glass, but neither of them has any reason to look up.

Down in the street, there are four men getting out of a car. They're well dressed, or they would be if their suits fit them properly. One of them pats his jacket and Dick gets up, tapping his wrist comm once so Bruce will know something's up, but under control.

A quick toss of a batarang gets them all looking up to where Dick was when he threw it, yards away from where he is when it hits, and two of them take out their guns and say something in Italian. Another batarang, and they're disarmed, but the other two have their guns out.

Dick can't get behind them from the rooftop, but he can take one down with a bolo while he jumps off the roof onto the other one, who's too startled to fire.

Bruce is going to be mad at him later for that one because it wouldn't work in Gotham, but while they're not in Gotham, he might as well enjoy being startling again. He manages to kick the last guy's gun away and take him out with a quick pair of strikes. The other ones are shouting, now, but so are a few people who were heading for the restaurant to have dinner there. The police will be there any minute.

The guys who were coming to take Selina out clearly know it as well as Dick does -- they're leaving their guns and running for the car. Dick kicks the guns into the sewer system and shoots a grapple, heading away from the restaurant while the people behind him chatter in Italian, saying words he can guess at but doesn't entirely understand.

Once he's out of sight, he finds a place to catch his breath. He squeezes the comm twice, for 'Situation handled.' Into the comm, he says, "I took out four guys -- speaking Italian."

A quick double click in his ear acknowledges the transmission. No more -- no dismissal, no words. Dick doubles back to the restaurant, careful to find a different way there than the direction he left in.

Dinner has arrived by the time he's back at his post. Selina is laughing more freely at Bruce's jokes now. Either it's the wine, or she forgave him. From the way Bruce is smiling, looking almost like himself, it's more likely the latter. The way things are going, Anne's going to be permanently retired, shipped home on a commercial flight.

Dick's resigned to that, as long as he doesn't have to go to school the next day. Just the thought makes him yawn. He dealt with the jetlag by sleeping all the way out. If he's surrounded by crying babies, it's not going to be that easy.

Bruce is squeezing Selina's hand, down in the restaurant. He'll be able to fight off Alfred for Dick.

He'd better be willing to do it, too, after all this work.

Dick keeps watch for another hour and a half while they finish the wine, but nobody else comes to threaten Selina or anyone else in the place. He's yawning by the time they're done, mostly from boredom. There's one more thing to do, and when they finally get up to go, so does he.

As Selina's walking out of the restaurant, her arm through Bruce's and her free hand full of roses, Dick jumps off the roof again and lands in front of her. "Miss Kyle."

She laughs. "Robin! Do you come here often?"

"Looks like you have a stalker, Selina," Bruce says, chuckling.

"Looks like." She's not looking at him at all. She's looking for Batman in the shadows on the roof, but she can't find him while she's leaning on his shoulder, cheeks flushed with wine and relaxation.

Dick shakes his head. "I was looking into a theft that happened in Gotham, Selina, and so were four men from the Mafia."

"The Mafia!" Bruce pulls his arm free so he can put it around Selina protectively. "Are you sure, son?"

Bruce never, ever calls him that.

Dick tries to be Robin, faced with someone he's never met, and nods. "Absolutely, mister Wayne." He frowns at Selina. "You'd better get home, Miss Kyle. Or at the very least, out of town."

She smiles at him. "Thanks for the advice, kiddo. Where's your daddy?"

It doesn't help that he was expecting the question. It still makes him wince, especially with those words. "Investigating the theft at home."

Selina raises an eyebrow and looks into the shadows again. "Oh." She sounds disappointed, but she grins up at Bruce a second later, covering quickly. "You have a jet, don't you, Bruce?"

"We should leave tonight," Bruce says, leaning down to kiss her. "I wouldn't want anything to happen to you."

"I guess I can leave my luggage," Selina says, reluctantly. All she's got with her is a tiny purse that's not big enough to hold half the jewels she stole, if she has any left.

"I'll replace your dresses," Bruce says.

Selina smiles at him. "Half of them are out of fashion by now, anyway. Let's go." She blows Dick a kiss. "Thanks, Robin. Tell the big guy I said hi."

Dick looks as blank as he can. "See you later, Miss Kyle."

Bruce turns away without saying anything else, escorting Selina to a taxi.

Selina's luggage back in her hotel room is all unpacked and spread everywhere. The remaining diamonds are hidden in one of her bras. Dick grins at them and tucks the bra back where he found it. Bruce is doubtless too far away for the double squeeze on the comm to reach him, but it makes Dick feel better to tell someone the mission's over.

All of the stuff in the room Bruce rented for the night is packed up already and there's a plane ticket home in Dick's luggage in the hidden compartment with the clothes that are actually his and not Anne's. The place is paid for the night, and maybe the night after, but all Dick needs is one good night's sleep.

He doesn't realize the ticket back is first class until he gets to the airport, but that, the really excellent food, and the new books he finds in his carry-on luggage put him a long way toward forgiving Bruce for taking off without him.

Alfred picks him up at the airport. "And how was your trip, Master Dick?"

He leans back in the comfortable seat. "Successful."

Alfred smiles at him in the mirror. "I'm glad to hear that, sir. How did you find Monte Carlo?"

"I'm not sure," Dick says. "Maybe it'll be more fun when I'm old enough to gamble."

"I believe you take quite enough risks that you will find the wagers of mere money dull."

"Yeah, probably."

When they pull up to the manor, Selina's coming down the stairs. "Hi, Alfred. Can I get a ride home?" she says.

He says, "Of course, Miss Kyle," because Alfred wouldn't say anything else.

When she sees Dick getting out, she puts on a pretty respectable smile. "How was your day at school, Dick?"

The question is bizarrely maternal and his internal clock is totally messed up. But of course that's where he'd be coming from. Alfred hands him his backpack a minute later. "Oh, you know, school."

Selina gives him a sympathetic, crooked smile. "I remember. Are you thinking about college, yet?"

Dick blinks at her, and puts it together, a little. Bruce must have been at home all day, and she's feeling relatively domestic, or something. "Yeah, but I'm not sure where, yet."

"Don't stick too close to home," Selina says, smiling. "College is for having adventures."

"I'll think about it," Dick says, putting on his backpack. The diamonds from her luggage are in his pocket. It makes her advice seem completely irrelevant. By the time he's in school tomorrow, she'll be out of town, running from the police, or back in jail. "Thanks, Miss Kyle."

"Oh, Dick, it's Selina. Please." She hugs him and he thinks about the bra in her luggage, back in Monte Carlo, before she lets him go so she can turn and smile at Alfred. "But I need to get home."

Alfred nods and holds the door for her. "Very good, Miss Kyle."

"Bye, Dick. Take care of Bruce for me." Her smile is a little too bright.

"Sure. Bye!"

She waves and gets in the car. Dick watches it leave, then goes into the house to look for Bruce and give him the diamonds.

That night, Dick gets to hand the jewels over to Commissioner Gordon himself. "Where'd you find them?"

Robin smiles. "Monte Carlo."

"Huh." Gordon pushes up his glasses. "Heck of a field trip."

Robin shrugs. "It was interesting."

"I'll bet." Gordon shakes his head and pats the bag of diamonds. "Catwoman, you said?"

"Yes, sir. She's back in town, too."

Gordon raises his eyebrows. "Well, that's a good piece of information. Any hints on her whereabouts?"

Robin shakes his head. "Not at the moment, but we'll be looking into it."

"I'm sure." Gordon nods. "Anything else?"

"Not yet, but I'm sure something will come up."

Gordon sighs. "It always does. Be careful out there."

Robin gets up on the edge of the roof. Gordon smiles a little. It probably makes him feel better that Robin can't manage to disappear nearly as smoothly as Batman does. "I always am, sir."

He meets up with Batman at a standard rendezvous point. "The Commissioner has the diamonds."

Batman nods. "Catwoman is at Brubaker Avenue and 67th." He glances at his wrist computer. "Either visiting or sleeping. She hasn't moved in half an hour."

Robin blinks behind his mask and stops himself from asking where Batman hid the tracer. He really doesn't want to know. "Okay. Should we tell the police?"

"She'll get away from them," Batman says. He looks out over the city.

Robin knew that, anyway. "Is that a yes or a no?"

Batman doesn't answer for a few seconds. "I'll call the Commissioner. Get there."

Robin winces. "I don't think I can take her by myself."

"You won't be alone," Batman says. "The police will back you up."

Robin folds his arms. "And where are you going to be, huh? She stole stuff. In Gotham. And you just want her to get away."

"If it turns dangerous, I'll be there."

"That's not enough, Batman." Robin frowns at him. "If someone gets hurt because you're not there -- when she gets away and steals from someone else --"

"She'll leave the city as fast as she can." Batman wraps his cape around himself. "That's enough."

"Tell that to the officers who go home with bruises tonight." Robin shakes his head. "I don't get it."

Batman hesitates another moment before he takes out his grapple. "She could still get away."

Robin grins. "Sure, but at least this way it's a fair fight."

Selina's asleep when they get there, her face buried in a pillow, wearing a raggedy t-shirt. Batman takes off his glove and puts a hand on her shoulder. "Selina."

She says, "Bruce?" sleepily, then turns over fast, wide awake. "Oh jeez. How'd you find me so quick? I've only been in town --" she glances at her watch. "Two goddamn days."

Batman shakes his head. "This time, Selina. Last time, you stole far too much for me to ignore."

Selina stretches her arms, yawning, and comes up with a whip, flipping out of bed. "You have to learn about selective deafness." She aims a strike at Robin and he backflips out of her way.

There's a knock at the door. "Police! We know you're in there, Miss Kyle."

"Shit." She dives for the window, but Batman blocks her.

"You're not getting away. Not tonight."

She kicks at his face and he dodges. She leaps for the window and Robin tackles her just as the police get the door down.

"Ow! Dammit." Selina tries to wriggle free, but by then the cops are in the room and putting handcuffs on her.

One of the officers says, "Thanks, Robin."

Robin gets up and dusts himself off. "My pleasure."

Batman has already disappeared through the open window.

"You meddling brat," Selina says, glaring at him. "I'll get you back for this."

The policeman pats her on the shoulder. "Come on, Miss Kyle. You know you have the right to remain silent."

"Don't know what the hell he's doing in Gotham anyway," Selina says sullenly, but she gives in.

Robin takes the moment and goes out the window. Batman is up on the roof. He says nothing. They watch Selina being taken into the police car silently.

"Well, that's that," Robin says, cracking his knuckles.

"Hm."

"Sorry to cancel your date for tomorrow, but it had to be done." Robin looks at Batman out of the corner of his eye.

Batman says, "I wonder if Anne Loyd is available."

Robin backs away from the edge, away from him and into a more shadowed part of the roof. "I told you, no way am I doing that here."

"No?"

"No. No way. Not for all the diamonds in Africa. Not happening. God, for a case it was one thing, but -- no, no, and also no."

Batman turns to give him a skeptical look. "Is it that uncomfortable?"

"I'm not a goddamn girl, Bruce." Robin folds his arms, flexing his muscles a little to make them more obvious. "I don't want to be, and I am really, really not interested in acting like one just for the hell of it."

"Ah." Batman comes over and puts a hand on his shoulder. "Does this mean the engagement's off, then?"

Robin realizes after a second that his jaw fell open. "Yeah, it really does."

Batman smiles a Bruce smile. "That's a shame." He leans in to kiss Robin.

Robin backs away and bashes into the wall. "Look -- this -- this isn't what you want."

"Isn't it?"

"Cut it out." Robin shivers. "I know you're mad we had to call the cops on Selina, but this isn't -- you don't want this."

"I know what I want," Batman says -- not Batman's voice, not Bruce Wayne dippy, but sounding like Bruce. It would be sane if Bruce wasn't reaching out to stroke his hair. "Is that your only objection?"

Robin ducks away. "It's a good enough reason for me."

"And in all your objections, you haven't said you don't want this."

Batman usually gets on his case for stating the obvious. But Batman usually isn't this close to him, or smiling like that.

"It doesn't matter." Robin frowns at him, hoping the shadow hides his blush but not his expression. "You want Selina to get out of jail, and this is -- I don't know what this is, but it's not -- you don't -- it's not real, Bruce. Not if you're going to ask me about engagement rings." He bites his lip. "And no, I don't want this."

He can tell that Batman's blinking behind the mask. "No?"

"Not unless you mean it." It takes him two deep breaths to get his thoughts together, but Batman's waiting while he does it. "And you don't, or you wouldn't have asked like that."

Batman backs off a step. "How would I have asked?"

Now Robin's blushing even more and he's sure it's obvious. "I don't know. You could've said something -- something else. Something that's not about people who aren't real."

Sometimes when Batman laughs, it actually sounds like he's amused. Sometimes it sounds more like he's bleeding. "Robin," he says, still laughing in that painful way. "That's a difficult distinction to make, particularly when you're wearing that mask."

Robin edges sideways and gets out in the open again. The wind picks up and he can feel his cape billow, just like his parents' used to. "No. I know I'm real. More real than whoever you think Selina is."

"I believe you've met her," Batman says.

Selina's perfectly charming when she wants to be, like when Dick got back from Monte Carlo, but that's not even half of who she really is. "In between her jail sentences, sure. In between the times we have to put her back in jail because she keeps breaking the law, sure, she's a nice lady, but I don't get it, Bruce." Robin keeps his voice low. "And if she's what you want, then --" he shrugs. "Sorry. I'm not going to start stealing stuff so you'll like me."

Batman laughs again, once. "That hadn't occurred to me."

"Well, still." Robin tightens one of his hands into a fist until he can feel the strain in each knuckle. It's hard to put the words together to ask, but he has to do it. "What if I said yes, and they let her out in a month? What would you do?"

For way too long, all Robin can hear is his heart pounding in his ears.

Batman says, "I don't know."

Robin lets the tension out of his fist. "Yeah, that's what I thought. See you at home." He runs to the edge of the roof and jumps off without looking back.  



End file.
